Golfadelphia

“It is a kingly act to assist the fallen” – Ovid

We were walking among the heather of New Zealand Golf Club just outside London in July. Apparently it was during the two-week window where the purple hue of the heather was in bloom, so its bright color plume shined from the tee as we walked to the greens. The heathland courses west of London use the heather in various ways, which largely dictates character. Walton Heath Old covers its swaths of flatter terrain so that the golfer must pick between it with strategic precision. St. George’s Hill relies on its hills and slopes for thrill, using the heather in spots as a spice of variety. Swinley Forest uses both its hills and heather in magnificent combination. While it is important how the heather was used in design, what’s most important is the heather itself. Its fascinating composition is the randomness of nature perfected. Some times the ball nestles into it and only allows the most desperate of recovery shots out. Some times it lies up, almost teed up for the golfer to swing away. Some times, well it just depends. Yet the thing with heather, and I was in it often as were my cohorts each of the rounds, there was never a time anyone needed to take an unplayable. The ball was always in play, to some degree. The heather itself is fascinating in its randomness. In large part, the excellent quality of English heathland golf is due to the heather. All that time in the heather those few days got me thinking more and more about that which lies beyond the fairway and its role in course design.

An oft overlooked feature course design resides off the fairway. The character of a course is seldom known for what awaits the golfer that dare miss the fairway or green yet that is where most of us play most of our shots from. It is indeed a primary driver of shot value and the extent of strategy is largely determined by it. Another way to look at it is perhaps by calling it, recovery character. I have no problem proclaiming recovery character is the silent majority of design proficiency.

In the States, the off fairway issue is certainly relevant in the current discussion of course design. Most every renovation project consists of fairway widening altogether. The use of rough and its recession is directly attributable to design trends towards engaging and strategic play. In many ways, Pinehurst No. 2 is a barometer of course design direction. The fields of rough amidst razor thin fairways and searing greens was a prime example of golf as aspiration in eras past. Not hitting the fairway meant going into the heavy rough, which demanded at least a half shot penalty, if you could find it. The restoration of Pinehurst 2 revitalized the fairway length and in place of rough, native wire grass. The wire grass was intended to impart the randomness along the likes of heather but allowed more roll of the ball into parts unknown, unbridled terrain movement that struck trepidation in the golfer in a much different way than rough. More importantly, the wire grass brings a deeper dimension of recovery character to Pinehurst 2, which restores levels of sophistication to its structure of play.

Indeed, the resto/reno monsoon has largely consisted of changing recovery character. Whether it is returning such character to the way it was in the past or simply changing it altogether, the composition of off-fairway areas has shifted away from an overabundance of rough and/or trees. Or even simply a changing of mowing lines. Most of such work is in the vein of opening up strategic corridors of play, or allowing the golfer some options of recovering from out of position. This, more than most trends, is a clear movement away from penal design to strategic design. Penal design had become overdone and the golfer was simply tired of the same monotonous punch out of the trees or rough for even the slight misgiving of a swing. The realization is that this does not detract from the challenge of any course; it simply shifts and broadens it. Instead of the golfer hitting the same punch shot over and over, he now has to think. Is there a chance for the green. If so, at what cost. Does laying up make sense. Do I end up wasting more strokes if this shot comes off poorly. Is the green moving towards or away from me. Where can I absolutely not end up. These considerations are now much more prevalent, replaced by the golfer realizing he has no other shot than to punch out. These considerations mandate that the course evoke interest three dimensionally. In eras past, the golfer who was able to hit it long and straight would score well and if a shot ended up off line, his exclusive option was to get back on that straight line. Now, each hole is designed with multiple angles into the greens and fairways accounted for. Long and straight will only get the golfer so far. Yet opportunities for thought, hero shots and course knowledge are a lot more available.

What defined that past era was the certainty of a lost stroke when out of position. What is now much more incorporated into course design are degrees of recovery. In general, the more diverse the degrees of recovery, the better the design is. Harken back to the aforementioned Pinehurst 2 and the restoration. Then think back to this year’s U.S. Open, the last hole. Bryson pulled his tee shot off to the left into a mixture of wire grass, sand, pine needles and hardpan, next to a tree root. A tree limb restricted his back swing. He opted for a low runner that he was fine with ending up in the bunker and getting up and down from there, which he did for the win. Before the restoration, the area of Bryson’s approach shot was chock full of trees. He would have likely had to punch out (if they could find his ball and assuming he even had a shot out), no other options available to him, no drama, no strategy, then left with trying to get up and down from wherever he was on the fairway. Whether he hit a straight tee shot would have mostly sealed his fate. The excitement and drama of the recovery made for much more interesting and engaging golf.

This is one of several ways in which recovery character is a major factor in course identity. Let us stroll about the U.S. and west of London to explore specific examples.

Desert Forest is our first stop. There are two notables right off the bat here. There are no fairway bunkers and there is no out of bounds. The effect this has on play is extraordinary. The fairways become refuge from the desert wilderness, which the golfer must play out of come hell or high-water. The randomness of the land dictates the degree of recoverability, with wayward shots ranging from perilously close to cacti, off the desert hardpan, or even suspended mid-air in the desert scrub bushes. The entire of the natural surrounds is in play, which actually begins to place even more pressure on the tee shot to hit the fairway. Those in the desert get to confront all that comes with rugged nature and must rely on a mixture of creativity and survival skills to keep an intact score card. The golfer never has the same round twice with so many possibilities and interest. Desert Forest was designed by Red Lawrence, an understudy of William Flynn. That will become relevant later on, but suffice to say Red very much intended for this recovery character of the course. In turn, this aspect of its structure of play indeed is its calling card with respect to course identity.

Moving back east, Bethpage Black is an important course in the off-fairway character discussion with respect to course identity. The primary purpose of the course is to thoroughly, and some would say severely, test the golfer. In accomplishing this, the course relies on grand bunkering, rolling topography, length and a healthy dose of rough. The rough is indeed a key characteristic of the course. Tee shots that miss the fairway very likely end up in the rough. Without advancing towards the green, these shots are longer approaches, which must carry and avoid the bunkering to reach the green. Approaches out of the rough exponentially toughen the approaches and increase the possibility the next shot will also be a recovery shot off green. A lot of the time, it is wise to simply pitch out of the rough, other times it is the only option. While there is some strategy and degree of recovery out of the rough, some believe that the mowing lines should be shifted so that there is more fairway. This follows that the wider fairways would actually increase the strategic decisions, allowing the golfer more options even on less than ideal tee shots. While the Redux review of Bethpage Black touches on these opposing views of the course, what is important to note is the recognition of just how vital the off fairway composition is to the identity of the course. Some believe rough is the best way to carry out that identity while others believe more fairway/less off fairway would more ideally serve that identity. No doubt the course would play completely differently in either scenario, demonstrating its pivotal significance.

Sandy waste areas are another off-fairway feature that impacts course character substantially. Cresting the ridge at the Creek and having Long Island Sound majestically reveal itself as we headed down to the Sixth green was one of the better first-time-on-a-course memories I can conjure, yet it was the sandscape meandering between much of those lower holes that really grabbed my attention. Functionally, the degree of penalty is less than rough or fescue or even heather yet it does influence what shots can be taken, especially with the randomness of lie. The off fairway sand at The Creek has a bit of sink to it, which compounds that randomness. Visually those areas complete the overall feel of naturalism. One feels as if they’re playing golf over a beach during low tide. Indeed, much of the character of Creek is defined by their sandy wastelands. Imagine rough or even fescue lining the fairways of these lower holes near the Sound. The great natural feel of the place would disappear and the course would very much seem to be imposed on the land than anything else. Further out on Long Island at The Bridge, the off season was spent converting many of the off fairway areas to sand. Much more compact than at The Creek, the sand had roll to it, which is how it imparts its randomness to the shots and determines the fate of the recovery. This of course adds variety and complexity, as well as playability. Before, many of these areas were comprised of dense curtilage and rough where the ball would sit and stay put, to be found or not. If the ball was found, the player’s utmost concern was getting back to the fairway in the next stroke. Having played the course before and after the installation of these sandy off fairway areas, the flow of the round is improved. No longer is it interrupted with the search parties disappearing in the bush or hunched over looking for any show of white in the heavy rough. The ball could end up in some unsavory place, or not, the next shot and the thinking into that shot much more engaging. Both courses are prime examples of how such sandy expanses can transform the core being of the course.

How about those that don’t use sand at all? There are a few. Sheep Ranch out in Bandon is one of them. The coastal bluff setting gets so windy that sand bunkers would be impractical. The wind challenges the golfer enough that few may think the whole course should be one big fairway just to make sure it’s flexible enough for all that wind, but what then happens when the wind isn’t up? Some semblance of off fairway area is needed, for definition and structure. Coore and Crenshaw utilized a feature not used nearly enough; grass bunkers. Grass bunkers provide much more opportunity for creativity and variety of recovery than sand bunkers while their measure of penalty is likewise more random. Fescue is also utilized in spots for good measure, mostly as a buffer to catch running shots where needed. These off fairway areas, and lack thereof, do well in emphasizing the expansive, strategic fabric of the course. The freedom of movement and green contours make approach angles much more relevant, especially with the wind. The off fairway conspire with the fairway contours and intelligent routing to fully utilize the spectacular geography. The course identity is reliant on the marriage of land and wind in evoking an expansive, strategic round on a more compact site while the off fairway areas are a necessary extension of and enhance these concepts.

We now look at two courses, one of each side of the country with a very different off-fairway context. Sahalee and Harbour Town. Both of these courses rely on an abundance of hardwood off fairway to define their structure of play. The recovery character at both courses is one dimensional, however, if the golfer is left with any at all. Harbour Town has its waste areas and bunkering and Sahalee has an occasional bunker or pond but the off-fairway trees impose upon the golfer how the course should be played. Both courses are rather unapologetic in not providing options or abundant degrees of recovery. This fundamentally changes the course identity to a shotmaker’s gauntlet. A bevy of different shots and ball flights must be executed and the variety of these courses rests there. It almost forces its variety on to the golfer. Hit a draw here, a fade there. This one must run out, this one must stop on a dime. Harbour Town is a tour pro favorite for this reason, as they love the array of shots they are called upon to bring forth from their arsenal. These courses are rare examples of courses where the lack of recovery character has the converse effect of evoking their identity. What the golfer must do to avoid the recovery purgatory surrounding the holes is its primary identity definer.

Now we examine off fairway that is a much more zero sum game. Water. Water is at the extreme end of the spectrum of recovery character in that there is none. The non-existence of recovery character certainly lends to course character in its penal absolutism. Likely the most famous example is the Seventeenth at TPC Sawgrass. A rather straightforward 137 yard par 3 is transformed into a much more intimidating and influential shot. During design, Pete Dye was trying to think of ways to instill more interest in the par 3 when Alice Dye suggested the water concept. The water surrounds transformed the hole and with the number of shots ending up wet even during the Players tournament each year, has the potential to quickly impact the golfer’s round for the worse. There’s very little complexity with most water hazards. You need to avoid the water or else. Yet its presence amplifies the nerves and intimidation, knowing you will not be able to redeem any sort of miss. In general, the more water used on a course, the more its design style will lean towards penal and heroic. Yet water can be incorporated into designs strategically. Flynn was well known for confronting creeks diagonally so that there were shorter and longer carries over it that the golfer could account for. As seen in the photo below at Crooked Stick, the bail out areas away from water are further away from the hole, presenting the golfer with the risk reward decision whether to settle for a longer approach while avoiding the water or taking the water head on for a much easier and shorter shot in. So yes, even the lack of recovery character does much to shape course identity.

This brings us to the heather I encountered for the first time this summer. Fascinating in its depth of variety, which in turn instills layers of complexity to the golf. My first round was at Walton Heath Old, a course that uses heather liberally. I was able to avoid it for the first couple of holes but then my approach at the Fourth was a little off to the right and found a nasty patch of it close to the green. It’s not the best example because we never ended up finding the ball but looking at the heather close up for the first time, it seemed to loosely intertwine towards the root and remained lower lying. A golf club could get through all of it but the density and multi directional interweaving roots would certainly affect both club and ball at various points during the swing. It was springy when walked upon, reminding me a little of the Kikuyu at Riviera. Indeed, heather and Kikuyu have a lot in common. They both stop the ball dead in its tracks and can leave both sunken and higher lies. Heather, however, provides a truer lie where fliers aren’t too prevalent. There’s also more a variety of lie with heather, likely with all that’s going on at the root level. I finally encountered it head on at the Tenth. While I punched out, I felt like I could have got away with even a full swing. I then seemed to get in every heather on the rest of the back nine and while there was certainly no shortage of well played recoveries, the whole process of looking for the ball started to wear on me, especially after the overnight flight. I longed for the fairway and short grass instead of trudging the purple trying to find my ball. After I hit my approach at the Eighteenth off to the left surely into a heavy pit of heather, I waived the group off in trying to find it. I would drop, finish up and lick my wounds, game planning for the ensuing rounds where I knew heather would be there to greet me.

The more rounds we played, the more I realized the complexity of heather in conjunction with its placement on the course. In some spots, it was downright devious. The Eighth at Swinley Forest comes to mind, which has a ring of short grass around the green, then heather after that in bands above. I hit the shot I wanted but it ended up taking an unfortunate bounce which made it scare off the green and dart into the purple. I then had to manufacture an awkward stab chip in what was a severe downhill lie that had very little room to roll out. I was relieved walking off with bogey. In other spots, the heather was actually preferred. I could punch and have it roll with purpose from it so there were times where I hedged my misses, already accounting for the recovery if something went amiss with the current shot. Multiple holes at New Zealand come to mind here, where the decision whether to use driver or not off the tee came up quite a bit. Most of that decision came down to the type of recovery I would have if the ball veered into the heather, which consisted of surveying the green and its surrounds. By the last day, I had some semblance of knowing the degree of recovery versus the degree of penalty when it came to each heather shot. So on the last day at Sunningdale Old when I topped my tee shot at the Fourth and it went tumbling into the heather, I was fairly confident I still had a chance at par, so long as we could find it. We did and the par putt just slid by the hole’s edge, probably as it would have done if I hit the green off the tee in the first place.

That is the other aspect of heather that should be addressed; the search. As I found out quickly that first round at Walton Heath, it wears on you. Most balls can be found but it can take a while if one isn’t looking in the right place; it is imperative to track the shots all the way down. Even then, the balls are apt to find all kinds of places to settle. It becomes a long day quickly if the golfer is constantly in it with his head down, trying to find wisps of white among the purple.

Notwithstanding, the ability to recover out of the heather is its supreme attribute. The golfer is never out of the hole if in it. Yes he must find it, yes it is lie dependent and yes extracting it takes a well executed swing with a good measure of authority, yet the range of recoveries is always broad and with the low lying nature of the heather, the golfer usually has the ability to place the recovery shot in various spots about the hole. The English heathland courses are among the best in the world for their ability to encourage wiliness, resolve and inventiveness. The recovery character of heather is a critical component to their structure of play, once again demonstrating the marriage between course identity with its recovery traits. The amount of adventure, strategy, variety and yes, agony, that heather adds, and how it is incorporated, is a remarkably noteworthy attribute of the English countryside golf scene.

If one were to devise a spectrum of recovery character, it might look something like this.

It really is course dependent on just how much off-fairway features and their recovery character impact course identity but the above is a rough sketch of some of their influence in general. The size of each bubble delineates the impact on recovery character. The higher the design feature, the more penal it is while the more to the right it is, the more strategic. The soft circle region around the heather/sandy waste area is ideal recovery character territory, offering some modicum of penal challenge while still imparting strategic fascination. Naturally there are some courses with multiple of the above design features, the confluence of which puts the course as a whole or even sets of the holes on various spots of the spectrum. At any rate, the above is simply to illustrate the multiple ways in which various features affect course character.

The forefront of course design discussion primarily addresses how the course plays from various spots of the fairway and what bunkers or other features to avoid that are in the line of play. But what of those areas off-fairway that likely receive just as much if not more play than the fairways. Moreover, how do things play when the golfer is out of position. Are his options slim, drab or dire. Or are his options plenty, depending on what he can think of or dare to pull off. These aspects of a course matter a great deal and comprise much of its identity. Perhaps there will be a day where courses incorporate different compositions of off-fairway hazards to amplify design concepts. The right side of the fairway could be full of heather while the left side sandy scrub. Bunkers could alternate between sand or rough. Ice plants could be involved. The golfer would have to consider these differences as he navigated the hole, maybe even shirking from the ideal line of play in favor of the possibility of hitting out of heather instead of rough. Or not, who can say how far-fetched. Regardless, when thinking over course identity, look beyond its fairways and greens to consider its recovery character, a vital element in course architecture.